


Small Hours

by periphery87



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, before the new movie makes this irrelevant (hooray!), can be pre-slash, have my weird longstanding scene, post-STID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:03:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7278280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periphery87/pseuds/periphery87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation during Jim's sojourn at Starfleet Medical after STID. My personal Jim/Bones history has roots in the works of phil-the-stone and ricechex on tumblr. Lil sappy. Okay, a lot sappy. </p>
<p>"What I'm trying to say is, I know how -- when the world's shifting under you -- it can mean everything just to be in the same damn room as your best friend."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Hours

He wakes suddenly, his own brand-new heartbeat thundering in his ears. A moment ago he was frozen on the tilting bridge of his ship, watching the time tick faster and faster while his crew slips into the vacuum, and now he’s blinking at the shadowy ceiling of his hospital room, reality crashing by. He remembers voices, mostly, in these confused moments after waking. He remembers the relief in his crew’s voices and the frustration he couldn’t stop from seeping into his own. Bones everywhere. Lashing out at Bones, and later apologizing, sort of, weak apology that it was. Steady breathing, not his own –

_Bones?_

_Mmph._

_Bones._

_Muh… Jim? You all right?_

_Don’t get up! Don’t. I’m okay. Honest._

_Really._

_Yeah._ Pause. _You’re still here._

_Fell asleep in the chair. I can go if –_

_No!_

_Okay._

_Don’t go._

_Okay._

_Unless, I mean, you probably want to go home or whatever to a real bed and I wouldn’t want to keep you for –_

_Jim, shut up. This chair is literally made for sleeping in and it’s far from the first time I’ve slept in it. I’m just fine here._

_Okay. If you’re sure._

_Dammit Jim._

_Heh._

 

Leonard rolls over to face the biobed. Jim waits until he’s adjusted himself. His voice is only a bit shaky.

 

_What do you mean, it’s not the first time?_

_Well, you were out for two weeks – where’d you think I slept? Just after you woke up, too. You probably don’t remember._

_No._ He knows suddenly, though, why Bones stopped. It’s because Jim pushed him away.

 

_Do you remember that time, in the Academy, when I slept on your floor for like three weeks?_

 

_Yeah, of course_. After the second time he’d found Bones fast asleep on his carpet, knowing he’d barely slept since his assault, Jim had proposed dragging a mattress into his room. It stayed there until Bones made the call to move it back. _Of course I do_.

 

_That time was… I just remember feeling a little – scared – all the time. You know how I… well. I woke up a lot more than I think you realized. I’d wake up all – lost, and I’d hear you breathing – and sometimes that was enough._

_Bones_ , Jim whispers.

 

_Anyway. What I’m trying to say is that I know how – when the world’s shifting under you – it can mean everything just to be in the same damn room as your best friend. I know you’ve got Spock now and all but… here I am._

_What d’you mean, I’ve got Spock now?_

_I… nothing._

_Bones… Bones, no. D’you know what I was just dreaming about?_

_What? I… no. No, I… don’t._

_I dream about you on that planet with that damn torpedo. There you were, yelling at me like always except you’re telling me to sacrifice you, you’re trying to save someone else, even if it means you – you – and all I could do was watch the countdown, watch your life tick away, I couldn’t do_ anything _for you, I couldn’t… in the dream it always goes to the end. I can see the counter and I can hear your voice and then it’s all gone._

_Jim. I’m fine._

_I’ve been dreaming about it every night. Hearing you breathing is… it’s just like you said._ You’re _my best friend, Bones, you know that, right?_

_Would you have called for me?_

_What?_

_When you were… you know. I know the comms to med bay were down, we weren’t getting anything at all except injuries, but… was there really… would you have asked for me?_

_Oh, Bones_ , he breathes, stunned.

_Did you?_

_I don’t remember most of it,_ Jim says slowly, thinking it through. He owes Bones the truth. _I just remember… how relieved I was to see people across the glass – Scotty and Spock – and I remember wanting you there._

 

Leonard makes a soft, stifled noise. Jim squints at him in the glow of his own biomonitors, just enough light to make out his closed eyes and the lines in his brow.

 

_I wanted you so bad, Bones. But I knew – Scotty told me he couldn’t raise Medbay. I never said anything because it didn’t seem fair. I know you would have come if you’d known. I know that._

_I would’ve – I would’ve –_ Leonard’s voice is failing him now. Jim reaches out for him across the darkness, finds that his makeshift bed-chair is not so far away as it seems.

 

_Shh, Bones, shh._ He feels Leonard’s hand fumble into his own. _I know. I know. I did want you. So badly, Bones. You’re my best friend; nobody’s gonna replace you. But I knew then and I know now. Shh._

 

It’s an odd sort of role reversal, Jim in his biobed, still a captive of Starfleet Medical, trying to comfort the man who saved him. He’s just glad that he’s strong enough for this now. Bones deserves so much better than Jim knows how to give, he deserves the moon and the stars and his daughter and the support of someone who won’t disappear, but if it’s Jim’s friendship he wants then Jim will give him everything he has.

 

_Look at the pair of us_ , Leonard mumbles, squeezing Jim’s fingers. Jim squeezes back, thinking too how ridiculous this is, how fragilely honest they’ve suddenly become, here, in the dark.

 

_We make a_ great _pair_ , he says surely. _All right now?_

 

_Better. You?_

_Yeah. I might go back to sleep._

_Probably a good idea._

 

Neither of them remembers to let go.


End file.
